Today I finally arrived. I’ve been on the road since June 6. From Vienna I made it to Helsinki. Compared to the bustle and sheer chaos of Vienna, Helsinki was calm itself — full of natural wood and natural touches. On top of that, I ate the best pizza of my life there: reindeer.
On the way over, a kind Japanese woman sat next to me. Whenever I asked her something (in Japanese), she always answered with a kind smile. I felt it didn’t come merely from politeness, but from genuine warmth. For the Tokyo leg I got a Japanese guy too — kind, answering every question when I asked how to get to Nagoya. The flight attendant was Japanese as well, and took it well when I spoke Japanese. My other neighbour, unfortunately, had very harsh breath, and I couldn’t sleep anyway because he took up the whole space. For some reason he was watching a film, constantly chuckling to himself and muttering all kinds of nonsense.
Customs and travel
As I arrived in Japan, the website (visitjapan) naturally didn’t work properly. They herded me — and everyone else — back and forth. After getting through customs with great difficulty, I made it to the shinkansen, pushing forward through the crowd with hands, feet, and my beginner’s Japanese. And that’s when my first Japanese moment happened: after several nights of three hours’ sleep, I finally fell asleep on the train. Luckily I woke up just before Nagoya. There a middle-aged woman asked where I was from: Nagoya is a smaller city than Tokyo, and it seems a foreigner heading that way draws a certain curiosity.
Nagoya
Of course, not everything in Nagoya went as I’d imagined either. I’d booked the hotel in the centre, a little farther from the station. At first I went to the wrong place — another building of the APA hotel; mine was farther north. Meanwhile it was raining, naturally, and I had no umbrella. I got soaked to the bone.
Finally I reached the hotel. The receptionist was kind, as usual, and helped with almost everything. It’s a strange experience even now, that people simply help. Not hurray-enthusiastic, the way Italians are when I speak Italian, but not particularly distant either.
Once I’d sorted myself out and got the key card, my first order of business was to bathe, call my parents, and throw myself into dinner.
Nagoya at night
But first I bought an umbrella. Every konbini sells them, so I got the same clear plastic umbrella most Japanese people use. Then, while I was hunting for a more appealing option among the restaurants on offer, a waiter from an izakaya called out to me, asking whether I liked seafood. After we established that I speak a little Japanese, he steered me to a place with an elevator. Needless to say, I was a bit wary. But it turned out lovely: I sat as the only gaijin in a wholly Japanese place, and the food was delicious. I even asked one of the guests what he was eating — ebi (shrimp) chips — and he immediately offered me one. When I left, we parted in great spirits.
Stepping outside, though, the other face of the Japanese world also showed itself. A younger man invited me out for drinks. I brushed it off; the offer didn’t appeal. On another walk I came across a group: one of them, a buff guy, nodded at me. It was a bit odd — he was with a lot of girls, in a black suit, with a rather peculiar look. I chose not to make anything of it.
But I took plenty of nice photos. Tomorrow I head on to the university.
Photos
